Firefight
by Lime.exe
Summary: The correct circumstances present themselves for a meeting without bloodshed. friendship, and eventual romance. Slash. Language. Slow-building. BLU Engineer X RED Scout.


**Authors Notes: I'm only going to say this here, and you won't have to see it for the rest of the story. I do not and never will own any of the characters form Team Fortress 2.**

**One goal of this fiction is to stay as true as possible to the game. All the locations are real and most of the item names are taken from poster and sighs that are visible if you turn your details to high. **

**I have gone to the trouble of G-modding most of the important scenes, and will be posting snapshots. (link TBA)**

**THANK YOU SO MUCH TO MY BETA-er's**

**StephREDSniper, Flygon Pirate, Angela Kip, and timaeusTestify.**

**[ HATS + ] MATTUSTICKY, shout out to [ H+ ].**

**For now the rating will be T although it might change as I keep writing, yes I do plan to make this slash. Thanks so much, and**

**-Enjoy**

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><p><strong>Fire fight<strong>

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><p><strong>Ch:1 a picture<strong>

It was the quiet of ceasefire that got a man thinking.

Engineer leaned back on the creaky wooden crate behind him. There must have been a faster way to blow up an enemy base than pushing a cylinder of c4 into the main computer. Why the BLU administrators wouldn't send a Spy with a super sapper or a Scout with the Demoman's sticky launcher just stumped him. He had even brought it up to his superiors, but his comments were shot down with a sharp reminder of who paid their salary, and not even Medic - a man who could find enough things wrong with a fine day in Texas to fill a shopping list - could complain.

Engineer nursed his drink shivering briefly as a chill wind washed over him. The administrators must have gotten a kick out of moving a sun born, sun baked, and raised Texan out to a frosty half-assed shack in the alpines; jokingly named 'Husky Acres'.

Engineer sighed. The idea there was another way, a simpler and more efficient way, just refused to leave his thoughts. Heck, their employers would save boat loads of money, and more importantly the death tally would be lower. Now it wasn't like death wasn't a normal occurrence; it as a daily constant, but it would give the temperamental respawn system less chances to fry his team mates.

Of course, it's best not to dwell on those matters. After all you can't hope to change everything… But he did like to think he could tweak things if he needed to.

Engineer lowered his drink, shifting his attention towards a wallet-sized picture clasped between his fingers. The photo depicted a runty little boy flashing his jack o' lantern smile, for the whole world to see. With goggles around his neck and corduroy overalls at least a size too big, the tyke hugged a baggy old dog within an inch of its life. Engineer smiled and gave a small heartfelt chuckle. He closed his eyes, and for a terse moment reminisced about his life before RED, and BLU. Still basking in nostalgia Engineer's gaze returned to the memento. He grinned and took a healthy swig of cola draining it or its remanding contents, before placing the now empty bottle, on the crate beside him.

The Southerner licked his lips savoring the sweet phantom after tastes that danced on his pallet. Yup, it was certain. Liquor just couldn't compare to sweet fizzy drinks. Of course he _had_ tried liquor before, and liked the tastes of some of the more expensive wines, smother whiskeys, and sweeter meads. But he preferred not to waste himself on the piss-tasting cheap beers that got popped open after a day out on the hot spot. In addition the taste of 'Old Geezer' draft beer made him feel like he would start tossing his cookies after a bottle and a half. But for the most part - besides the head splitting hangovers, tossed cookies, and mornings were he could not remember the previous nights - he didn't like to lose control around strangers; it made him feel vulnerable, and there was just too much risk he might let some _confidential_ information slip. Anyhow he preferred the sweet and bubbly taste of pop, to the burning acrid taste of liquor.

He had even swiped a few of Scout's Bonk cans, much to the young Bostonian's great displeasure. However it was only when the hot blooded youth caught sight of engineer taking a nip off one that he threatened to give him a 'real beatin' if he were to take another one of 'them' cans. However most of the time, which was often Scout didn't even notice that one of his precious cans had gone missing.

Engineer shivered violently as a bitter wind blew through his light polyester shirt. He probably should have grabbed a jacket before heading out into the wintery frost covered porch. But he was too preoccupied with his thoughts and had just wanted to get away from the hustle and bustle of an after-fight meeting led by Solder. Which was mainly an excuse for the churlish American to yell at the team for not pushing the cart fast enough, not dominating their RED counter parts, not being manly enough, or not making eye contact with him - which was a fairly hard task to do _seeing_ as the Solder _always_ had his helmet on. Unless he was in his pajamas in which case he wore a night cap, but it had the same effect as the helmet in terms of vision prevention. - the list went on, and on.

Engineer looked up to see the sun starting its final dance, and figured that it was about time to head in.

"They probably didn't even realize I was gone." He sighed.

"Quite the contrary my dear laborer." said a distinctive French lilt.

Engineer jumped, turning he was met with the token pinstripe of the BLU spy. "Heh, didn't see ya' there Spah." said the flushed Texan, as he hurriedly shoved the photo down the front of his overalls.

Spy waved his hand nonchalantly, pausing only to take a long drag from his cigarette."There was no need to make my presence known," he said, exhaling a wispy smoke cloud.

"A-alrighty then," He said briskly, nervously patting the photo through his overalls. "Damn spooks, always popping up just when-" Engineer grumbled.

"Iz there a problem?"

"Nahh, its nothing'," Engineer Pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his side pouch. Figuring a bit of calming was in order after spooks well, spooked him. He gestured towards Spy, "Care tah' help with a light?"

Spy paused and looked into the sky. His eyebrows furrowed while his mouth became a thin line. Then he reached into the breast pocket of his crisp vest, and procured a silver lighter, opening and lighting it with a quick flick of his wrist.

"I might be able to do something." He grinned, and extended the hand holding the lighter to the Engineer.

"Thanks, partner." The Texan, he lit up his cigarette, and took a few steadying puffs.

"The RED's appear to be missing ... that new scout they hired; you know the annoying one." Engineer grinned.

"Spah' all those string beans on RED are annoyin', and how d'ya find all that gully-wash out? "

"Well, I disguised as 'him," the man shrugged "and when their engineer saw me, he' ran straight to me an' asked if I was ok. A strange reaction, don't you think?" Engineer raised an eyebrow. What was the frenchie leadin' on about?

"Uhh kinda?"

"Oui, my thoughts exactly, so I went along with it. I said that It wasn't that bad, an' that I was fine. And then he started blubbering, the whiner!" The Frenchman snorted. "He must have blubbered about his terrible engineering and faulty teleporters for at least ten minutes. Sadly I could not tell, you see the Dead Ringer does not actually tell time." Spy shot the Engineer an accusatory glance. "Which brings me to the reason why I have braved the cold and elements…" Spy reached into his pocket and retrieved the gold watch and chain. "If you would be so kind to install an actual watch, it would be much appreciated." Spy held out the watch expectantly. Still grumbling Engineer reached out and took the watch. He glanced up to meet the smug masked man in the eye, as he shoved the delicate piece of machinery into his side pouch. Great more work. He knew there was no way Spy would look for him unless he needed something.

"Will that be all?" Engineer drawled.

"For the moment." Engineer took one last drag off his cigarette before tossing the remainder onto the ground and squashed out the small ember.

"I'ma head in."

Spy nodded. "I will retire later, so do not 'wait up' for me." Engineer shook his head sighing exasperatedly, and gave a quick wave to his masked acquaintance, before he grabbed the empty bottle and tromping his way back to the BLU Base.

The moody Texan went straight to the kitchen, hoping to make himself a steaming pot of coffee and maybe grab a bite to eat. There were only a few people still milling around the common room/kitchen, seeing as most of the team had retired to their own private quarters. Demoman was sprawled out on the couch and Heavy and Medic were engrossed in a game of cards. No one seemed to notice the stout Texan as he walked in, which was perfectly alright with him. After pouring himself a cup of hot joe, Engineer dug through the fridge, searching for a container of yesterday's mac 'n' cheese. Upon finding the cheesy comestible he walked gingerly to the communal microwave, only to find a note in blocky hand writing that could only belong to the solder –'make a real microwave'. Engineer frowned, what was this? The seventh microwave this season?

"Damn it I'm an engineer, not a plumber!" Grumbling Engineer sat down at the end of the long speckled fake-marble table and dug into his cold dinner.

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><p>Engineer stumbled out of the white respawn room rubbing his arm as phantom pains pulsed sporadically through his limb. Damn that RED Pyro, damn him <em>and<em> his garage shop flamethrower! He stepped out of the base and on to his teleporter. The blades spun faster and faster, until milliseconds before the teleportation sequence was about to initiate, he heard a crackle of electricity.

"Spah' sa-" and that was all he could say before he was face to face with a very confused RED Engineer.

"What in Sam Hill…" said the RED Engineer. His BLU counterpart reached for his pistol. Two high pitched beeps sounded, a shot was fired, and the BLU was down on the ground cursing to himself and counting on the cover of the RED dispenser, wounded and at the mercy of his enemy.

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><p><strong>Thanks so much for reading, please review.<strong>


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